


Under the Willow

by beartrap



Category: Naruto
Genre: Founding of Konoha, Gen, History Class, because ninja students should have required reading, konoha academy required reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-06 23:59:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beartrap/pseuds/beartrap
Summary: The true story of the First ANBU.





	1. 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something a bit different, so I took a bit of a new angle at telling this story. Basically, this story is written from the perspective of a historian (sorta) who wrote a book detailing the life of the first ANBU, or what she was able to uncover. This book is, in the setting of Naruto, required reading. 
> 
> Set post-founding of Konoha.

Long ago when I was a mere academy student, the ripe age of 7, full of youthful naivete, I had my first encounter with a member of ANBU.

It was a gruesome sight, the ANBU in the middle of the hospital hallway covered in blood and collapsed over another, unmoving, ninja. I was vaguely aware of the harried shouts of hospital staff, running feet, hands in a gentle grasp pulling me away, but my feet stubbornly staying put. The ANBU was pulled back, it seemed, in slow motion. She looked at me - her mask not as terrifying as it perhaps should have been - or perhaps just in my direction. 

My mouth moved without my permission.

“Your insides are falling out,” I said, as if discussing the weather.

“My gift to the Hokage,” she rasped out. 

What a horrible gift, I had thought. But she seemed to think it was funny for some reason. The words burrowed into my mind, made my skin boil with unease.

A week later I found myself in the hospital halls again, this time looking for the ninja who had been so lifelessly splayed on the floor. He had been saved, I was told. And I hoped that he could direct me to where I could find the mysterious Tiger-masked ANBU. I stood awkwardly in his doorway for some moments before he took pity on me and invited me in.

He was a Hyuuga, that much I could tell from his eyes. A chunin, I found out, aged 16, and had been badly poisoned. When I asked about the odd seal on his head he told me it hadn’t been used since his great-great-grandparents time, but didn’t elaborate. I asked about the ANBU who had brought him - and let him know in no uncertain terms that I had questions to ask her and I wouldn’t stop until I found the answers. Unfortunately, Tiger-chan, as he called her, wouldn’t be able to answer them. He laughed humorlessly and said to ask the memorial stone instead. Sad, disappointed, I asked him what she had meant.

“How is that a gift?” I asked incredulously, at the end of a long-winded rant.

He looked thoughtfully out the window, gaze directed at the Hokage Mountain. Just when I given up all hope of an answer he spoke. 

“We’re ninja,” he said. Like that answered my question. It didn’t. It filled me with more. But I left him to his peace.

Years later after a particularly messy C-rank mission I was patching up my sensei (rather badly, I admit, but I hadn’t been a Genin long) when my teammate saw a swirly looking tattoo upon his shoulder. Sensei said he had been in ANBU. Delighted, we began to pepper him with questions.

“Did you know Tiger-chan?” I asked, eager to find out more about the person who had filled me with so many odd thoughts for so many years.

“I knew many Tigers,” he replied. He laughed when my face scrunched up in dismay. 

Undeterred, I launched into my epic tale of searching for the mystery woman. Sensei sat blank faced through it, my teammates were similarly annoyed by my lack of progress. Though for vastly different reasons. 

“That’s the worst intel gathering I’ve ever heard of,” Kosuke snapped. “Besides, it’s just common sense - ninja die for Konoha.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“What do you mean why? It’s Konoha.”

“Well, I don’t want to! That’s not a real reason!”

My grumpy teammate looked particularly aggrieved by my admission. The other, unsure. Sensei just grunted quietly when I had harshly jerked his injured hand. 

Why did ninja so easily accept death for their village? I couldn’t accept it, not really. I didn’t understand. I certainly didn’t want to die for any reason. But whenever I asked I got strange looks and angry rebukes. 

Many months later we went on a C-rank mission to escort some academic types to the border, and guard them while they worked. 

“You’ll like this mission,” Sensei told me. 

We went to the Valley of the End. Though it looked more like a giant crater than a valley. They were excavating - gathering artifacts for some new museum. It was dreadfully boring and slow. I informed Sensei that I thought he was crazy if thought I’d like doing this for a whole month.

My grumbling attracted the attention of one of the workers. He gave me a ferocious glare before looking very surprised, then positively elated. 

“That tree!” he cried out. 

Sensei and I looked at the tree we were standing under. It was an odd tree. It was massive, twisted, and looked to be dying. There were scraps of ragged weather worn fabric tied high in the branches. The trees around it looked to be in vastly better condition.

“What about it?” I asked, curious despite myself. “It’s dying.” I pointed out helpfully.

“It’s a willow,” the man frowned before ordering us to stay there and “for the love of God don’t touch anything!” before scampering off to find his companions. 

Sensei was looking at the tree with renewed interest. With a huff, I threw myself dramatically onto the ground. 

“Ow!” I cried out. I moved over to glare at the offending rock that had connected with my tailbone. Then blinked. Once. Twice. Three times, before hesitantly reaching out toward the flat white rock.

“Don’t touch it,” Sensei snapped. He hovered over me looking at the white rock - thing. He hauled me up and practically threw me under a neighboring tree before quickly making his way over.

“What’d you guys find? They’re all excited. Like, super excited,” said Eiji. Kosuke nodded his agreement. Behind them, the cluster of five researchers did indeed look excited as they began to coalesce around the tree. 

“Some stupid tree,” I said. Sensei was saying something to the researchers and gesturing at the ground and branches in turn.

Kosuke looked put out. “How’s a tree more interesting than that shuriken I found?” 

Kosuke did like this mission. For whatever reason. Kosuke had found a shuriken in the muddy banks of the river a few days ago and had been in a tizzy. The researchers said they would credit him for finding it. He had looked inordinately pleased. 

“It does look super old,” Eiji said slowly, “And there are those things in the branches. Maybe something happened here?”

“Some kind of fight?” I asked. That was interesting, I supposed. But a few fights had taken place here, so it wasn’t far-fetched or extraordinary. 

Kosuke huffed. “This is too far out from the valley to have been a part of The Battle,” and god, could I hear the capital letters when he said that, “Definitely not Goidame-era or Nanadaime-era. And there was only one other real battle here than those two,” he bit his lip. “But I don’t think….” he trailed off. For the first time, Kosuke looked uncertain.

“Don’t think what?”

“Maybe it’s from when the Valley was first created?”

I raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Created, Kosuke, really?”

Eiji laughed his full, loud laugh. It was obnoxious. Kosuke pouted and crossed his arms protectively over his chest.

“Haven’t you two been paying attention at all?” He snapped. “The First Hokage created the valley in a fight.”

“Trees don’t live that long!” Eiji said. “And besides, they’re just poking around in the dirt.”

“They always poke around in dirt, that’s how they find stuff. Obviously, something is here.”

“You’re right - something is here,” Sensei said. When he had gotten there I wasn’t sure. He did tend to pop up very randomly and with little warning. “Congratulations Yoshiko, you’ve made a very interesting find.”

“I did?” I didn’t really believe him. At sensei’s confirming nod we turned our attention to the researchers. They were now carefully, painstakingly setting up stakes and strings and another was unloading and organizing small tools. 

The next day we were joined by the ANBU commander and several captains. The commander was arguing with the lead researcher, while the others were focused on unearthing whatever they thought they had found.

“But if it is,” the researcher said, “Then we can possibly extract genetic material to find out who he was.”

I couldn’t hear the commanders reply but the researcher seemed mollified. He saw me watching them and brightened. “Little girl!”

I was displeased with his name for me. I put on my best Kosuke-esque scowl as he hurried over.

“I thought you might like to see what you found!” He beckoned me to follow him. Okay, I was a little interested. “Your sensei says you have a particular fondness for ANBU, and well, this is just, well, amazing!”

Now I was a lot interested. I followed him to the makeshift tent, in which was a long table and several chairs. On the table was a plethora of things - testing equipment, storage scrolls, tools, and several labeled bags. He snatched one up and waved it in my face.

“Well, take a look!” He said. 

I looked. In the bag, labeled “Alpha”, was a plain white mask. At my questioning look, he answered.

“That, we believe, is the mask of the first ANBU.”


	2. 1.2

“This isn’t an ANBU mask,” I said, “It’s just a plain mask.”

“It is, definitely,” replied the researcher.

I scoffed and shoved the bag roughly back into his hands. “Whatever you say old man.”

I was a tad upset, honestly. I was expecting something, well, cool. Not a white mask. I stalked out of the tent to my team, who were watching the researchers crowded at the base of the tree.

“What’d he want?” asked Eiji. 

“Said he had an ANBU mask,” I ground out. 

Kosuke looked up with thinly veiled interest. “ANBU mask?” he repeated. “That’s really-”

“It wasn’t! It’s just some regular mask. Not ANBU.”

Sensei made a disgruntled noise. Kosuke rolled his eyes. 

Eiji pointed to the tree, “Well they found a bunch of pretty cool stuff so far. A bunch of ANBU masks - real ones - and hiate-ate and weapons.” He looked at Sensei before continuing on. “They’re only allowed to take the weapons. The Commander wouldn’t let them move the other stuff. He seemed pretty upset about taking the weapons too though.”

My lips twisted into a frown as I watched the researchers take little brushes to sweep dirt out of the small ditch they had created. There was an ANBU crouched in a tree branch looking at some of the tied up rags. Another was rubbing their fingers over a patch of tree bark. 

“It’s disrespectful,” said Sensei. 

“How so?” Kosuke asked. 

“Ah,” Sensei rubbed a hand through his hair, “It was always said that putting an ANBU’s belongings under a willow tree ensured peace in the afterlife.”

“Oh,” said Kosuke, “That’s stupid,” I said.

Sensei gave me a sharp look. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Yoshiko.”

“It’s rude,” Kosuke informed me snobbily. Maybe it was rude, but he didn’t have a place to talk. And it was stupid. A superstition. Certainly not something elite ninja should believe in. Before I could inform them of my very enlightened outlook on such matters Sensei cut in.

“There aren’t many of these trees around here. This is the first time I’ve seen one, at any rate. But it was something a lot of people did - may have done - during more troubled times.”

“Maybe they should plant one in the cemetery,” Eiji said blithely. “Er, you know, so they could bury the stuff, or uh, bodies, I guess, there.”

“Like a grove?” Kosuke asked. “That’s actually a good idea Eiji.”

Sensei agreed. I tuned them out and focused on the ANBU who was currently dangling upside-down on a branch. Some sort of bird mask.

Some time later Kosuke began to poke around. He ventured toward the steadily growing holes in the ground and peered into them. Then he made his way to the tent. When the sun was set low in the sky he came back. He settled down closer to the tree and watched with avid attention as a researcher unearthed something.

“Cool,” his voice carried over. “Sensei come look! It’s a...what is it?”

It was a box. Which contained a fancy looking calligraphy brush. The researcher took a picture of it and catalogued it on the slowly growing list of found items. It was the most interesting thing so far. The researcher informed us that they would look further into the item, as it was most likely unique to whichever ninja it belonged to and maybe they could identify who it possibly belonged to.

This carried on for the rest of the week. It was slow going. Kunai, packs of senbon, shuriken. Those were the most common items found. They found tekko kagi and a small fan. A pack of makibishi. A pair of sai. These, they were more excited about. They counted 24 hiate-ate. They found 29 masks. They were all old and faded with paint chipped off and they hemmed and hawed over the colors and the animal and the few peculiar ones that had seals inscribed on them.

Kosuke had taken up asking questions about everything. Everything. At night he’d tell us how awesome the museum was going to be. He requested we be put on every historical dig mission that came up. I vehemently protested. Then I called him a nerd. 

But they still whispered to each other about that blank “ANBU” mask being the most exciting find. Even Kosuke. We argued over whether or not it was real. Kosuke called me arrogant and ignorant and many other names. 

“I like history, ok!” he cried out at dinner one night. “Maybe if you ever paid attention you’d learn something, and god forbid you do that, because then you’d actually might be able to be a real ninja!”

Sensei stopped the argument before I could shout my reply. 

Of course, three days later one researcher let out the most dramatic gasp I have ever heard in my life. She was near the largest hole, where they had originally found the mask. It was deep. Far deeper than the others. 

“Chakra blades,” she breathed. “Two!” 

The researchers abandoned their holes and scurried to her to look. 

“What’s the big deal?” I asked Eiji. I wasn’t speaking with Kosuke. Chakra blades, while rare, weren’t particularly unique. He shrugged.

“It’s said the first ANBU used two chakra blades,” said Eiji.

“They could be anyone's,” I pointed out. 

The researchers began working on the hole with renewed vigor. The final day of the dig they found something very unexpected.

“That’s...a bunch of bones.” 

“You found them?” cried out Kosuke.

“Were we expecting them?” I asked.

“Sort of, maybe,” said Eiji, “You really haven’t been paying attention have you? I thought you liked this ANBU stuff?”

“I do. I just…” I trailed off. I just what? I didn’t understand it. How people could believe this sort of thing. That putting something they owned under a weird looking tree meant getting peace. They’re dead, what do they know? Isn’t getting peace supposed to be for the living? The people they left behind? It’s just kunai. A hiat-ate, maybe that was more important, but not enough to not give back to your family, right? 

“She likes the idea of ANBU, not actual ANBU,” Kosuke sniffed.

“What do you know?” I snapped back.

“Why’d you even become a ninja if you don’t even care?” He spat out. Before I could wrap my head around the question he was already at the edge of the hole.

Eiji sighed. 

“He’s so moody,” I said.

Eiji mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like “shuriken calling the kunai sharp” before addressing me directly. “He likes this stuff and you just shit all over it. It’s pretty neat, ya know, our legacy basically, and you don’t-”

“I don’t what?”

Eiji gave me an unreadable look. “Listen, I don’t know. Just, maybe, chill out?”

As we watched the researchers slowly ebb the dirt away from the dual chakra blades and uncover the bones attached, Kosuke’s question rang through my mind.


End file.
